


Life As We Didn't Know It

by magnaparva



Category: PIERCE Tamora - Works, Protector of the Small - Tamora Pierce, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Child Marriage, Gen, Infidelity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-03 07:51:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5282750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnaparva/pseuds/magnaparva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snippets from a world wherein Ilane of Seabeth and Seajen married Duke Baird of Queenscove instead of her canon husband.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning of Something Different

**Author's Note:**

> This story began in a wholly different form over on FanFiction.Net at least six years ago. I've been planning to rewrite it for quite a while now but didn't get round to writing anything until very recently. I realise that the story topic may feel controversial and/or triggering but I will always try to tag for anything disturbing.

Fate has a funny way of letting things slide, then taking retribution in the most surprising forms. 

For instance, the young Ilane of Seabeth and Seajen had been secretly engaged to Baron Piers of Mindelan for a little over two months when her father decided to marry her off as soon as possible to her most viable, persistent suitor, Baird of Queenscove. Then, one Midwinter's day of 437 HE, the now-titled Duchess of Queenscove had a raging spat with her husband. What about, one cannot remember, as it is indeed a common occurrence in many a relationship. However, this spat in particular had unforeseen consequences.

Late August the next year, a bastard son was born to the line of Queenscove. The unwitting mother was chased off from their lands, never to return again. Devastated by her husband’s infidelity, Duchess Ilane felt utterly betrayed. And yet, she remained quiet over the matter, and decided to bring up the boy as her own. She could not help but soon come to adore him; his resemblance to his father made it so no one could tell he was not truly hers. This boy was named Nealan.

Despite Ilane’s silence, which lasted well and strong, she faltered upon meeting her former sweetheart four years later at a masque thrown by a mutual friend. Swept up in the moment, things got carried away. Regret would greet her soon enough but it wasn’t until she’d later miss her courses that she’d realise the true meaning of what she’d done that night. Foolishly, drunkenly, Duchess Ilane had forgotten that her pregnancy charm had been pulled off during a tussle with one of her ever lively brood. One very fertile woman and a instance of passion - well, needless to say, another illegitimate babe was soon on its way to make a mark on the world.

Despite the pain she had felt at her husband's betrayal, Ilane went on to commit the same wrong. While they both learned to forgive each other, their relationship was damaged. It wasn’t until seven years had passed that reparations would begin. This was when a betrothal contract was set forward for the hand of their ninth and youngest child, Keladry of Queenscove.


	2. A Father's Work Is Never Done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's all OC, I'm afraid. Bear with me. It will be slow going for quite a while.

Count Marcus of Thorn's Crest liked to grumble about being an old man. Having married in his late thirties, to the elder sister of the current Lord of Stone Mountain, he was now fast approaching fifty three as a greying widower. His late wife, the Countess, had graced their marriage with three healthy boys before passing away merely a year after the birth of their youngest. With the help of a faithful fleet of servants, his many sisters and their husbands, he'd been forced to begin life as a single parent, left behind to try and pick up the pieces of a fractured family as it fell apart with grief.

Now? Now, in 449 HE, his eldest son had recently turned thirteen and was already the spitting image of his father at that age. Thirteen. Where had the time gone? As Marcus sat in by the fireplace in his private chambers in the manor, his brow furrowed in contemplation. He'd chosen, against the staunch disapproval of his sisters, to remain unmarried after the loss of his wife, choosing instead to focus on his sons and the earldom. He'd sacrificed his career as a knight in active duty as a result but it had been worth it to be there as his children grew up.

But now he had to think of their future. Arthur, his eldest son, would soon be a scholar, having enrolled at the Royal University of Magic in order to train his Gift. The boy certainly made his father proud with all that he had done but despite all that, Marcus worried the way parents tend to do and with his wife no longer around to keep him in check, his neuroses got the better of him. In his hands were letters from his sisters, filled with all manner of advice, disparaging comments and proclamations that he had lost his mind. In a fit of anxiety, about a month ago, he'd written to his sisters of his worries that his eldest and brightest could be led irrevocably astray by the radical Progressive friends he was sure to make while at University, and what did they think of him arranging a possible betrothal for the lad?

The Count looked down at the sheaf of parchment, grimaced and sighed heavily, then stood up, wearily making his way over to the desk on the far side of the room. He sat down behind it and pulled open the desktop drawers to take out a bottle of ink, a quill, parchment and blotting paper, preparing to pen out his responses. Though his sisters meant well, he was convinced that his idea of firmly grounding Arthur with a positive female influence would work. Of course, Marcus considered himself far too old to even think about remarrying anymore but his son? Well, it was hardly unheard of for eldest sons of wealthy families to be betrothed by his age, if not married.

He dipped his quill into the ink and shook off the excess.

_Dearest Maribeth,_ he wrote. _I hope this letter reaches you safely and that you are well._

_ I must thank you for your restraint in your previous missive to me; as you may have gathered, Maud and Millicent were not quite as kind. I understand that my actions may not prove to be popular but I feel it is my duty to make a unilateral decision for the good of my son and heir, and for the good of Thorn's Crest. I am but a mere ageing mortal; I may yet soon pass on to the Peaceful Realms to join my dear late wife. I'm sure you understand that I simply want to ensure that Arthur's future is secured before that can happen. _

_ My dear sister, you know as well as I how much of a cesspool Court truly is. I fear that leaving things to chance may only do my son harm; sooner or later, he will become exposed all manner of ghastly things and what if he chooses to never settle down? I have raised him to do his duty by the family; while my other sons stand in line after him, he has been groomed to be my heir since he could walk. I do not regret allowing him to go away and study at the Royal University – the lad is Gifted and bright; this is what he needs, truth be told – but you know how I worry; incessantly. _

_ Sister, I understand your opposition to my suggestion. He is young yet and has not had the time to see much of the world but is that truly a bad thing? Is it not best to nip things in the bud before the situation becomes out of control? In his last visit home, he spoke candidly about a female student near to him in age who was sent home in disgrace, supposedly having been gotten with child. I wonder if he realises just how serious a consequence it must have been for the girl in question. My mind is made up and I will not be talked out of it; I am determined that I will soon have arranged a betrothal for Arthur with the most suitable prospect and, yes, I would appreciate your input, should you be willing to put aside our differences on this matter. _

_ It is at this point that I feel I must admit that I was unaware of the subtle shift in the political balance at Court these past few years. Perhaps I have been absent for too long. While Thorn's Crest has a strong Conservative background and can be proud of the way we have loyally served the Crown since our beginning, it has come to my attention that we are no longer quite in favour as we once were. I'm sure you are aware that the families which are can only be described as predominantly being of Progressive stock; to name a few? Pirate's Swoop, Trebond, Naxen, Goldenlake, Wellam, Meron, Queenscove, Haryse – all but the first two are listed in the Book of Gold. _

_ After I wrote to you, I had a man make discreet enquiries into several families, including those I have listed above. I wanted to know if there were any decent marriageable prospects for Arthur to be had from within the Book of Gold. When he reported back to me last night, I learned that should I wish to make a move, it ought to be soon, as the outlook so far is proving to be narrow; else, I shall have to broaden the search parameters and then who knows what riffraff we'll end up with. Beth, were you aware that families are promising girls as young as eight into marriage? My Henry is of that age! I have yet to decide whether it is an act of ingenuity or if it completely outrageous. As it turns out, that may not matter either way; of all the unattached young ladies I had the man look into, there are only two likely choices. The Lady Anfisa of King's Reach is but a year older than Arthur, while the young Lady Keladry of Queenscove is six years his junior. _

_I hope you appreciate the dilemma I am in, sister. Such is life; I only wish to protect my child but I am finding that it may be done at the expense of another. If at all possible, I would welcome any advice on how to proceed from here onward. I only wish the best for my dear boys but I fear I may only do more evil than good with all my meddling. I find it is at times like this that I miss Edith terribly; she always knew what to do and I'm sure that had she lived, she would have known how to guide me in this hour._

_Give my love to your husband and children. May the Gods keep you and your family in good health._

_Forever your loving brother,_

_Marcus._

He signed, sealed and stamped the letter before putting it aside and starting anew. The next morning saw three couriers in Thorn's Crest colours departing on horseback a little after sunrise, off to deliver missives to his sisters three.


	3. Acts of obedience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things actually happen. Or do they?

“Father? Father, are you in there?”

Ilane stirred in bed, slowly registering knock at the door. “Baird,” she whispered without opening her eyes, reaching out to nudge at his slumbering form beside her. “Baird, wake up. It’s Graeme.”

The Duke let out a small sigh as he blinked awake. “I just went to bed. What could he possibly want now?” he grumbled, pushing himself out of bed and pulling on his slippers.

“Go find out,” was the sigh in response as his wife fell back asleep.

As he opened the door, his first instinct was to duck when his son all but threw a letter at his face. “I’m sorry, Father, but a messenger just arrived with this for you. He says it’s from a Count Marcus? He’ll be riding home tomorrow. I’ve asked the servants to make sure he gets some bread and cheese, and a bed for the night. He’ll likely be sleeping in-”

Baird raised his hand and cut him off with a concerned frown. “Son, slow down. Breathe.” The younger man did as he was told, looking expectantly at his father. “Good. Thank you, Graeme, for taking care of our guest. I’m sure your mother will appreciate it. Now, it’s nearly midnight. Off to bed with you. Healer’s orders,” he added with a wink.

Graeme rolled his eyes but looked marginally more relaxed than a moment ago. They said goodnight and parted ways, the Duke closing the bedroom door, while his son walked down the hall to his own room. Baird sighed once the door was shut, then walked over to the dresser, tossing the letter on there before going back to bed.

The following day, Baird had just finished his village rounds and was walking up the path to the castle when he saw his wife waiting for him at the entrance. She greeted him with a brief kiss before drawing back and stroking her hand down his cheek.

“Baird, we need to talk.” He looked up, stopping short at the grave expression on her face. “Now.”

“What is it?” he asked, worried.

“This letter.” She drew it out from her coat pocket and held it up with her other hand. “It arrived last night, I know. I also know you haven’t had the chance to read it yet. You should. Finish up here, then come find me when you’re done. I’ll be in our rooms.”

Less than an hour later, they had sequestered themselves away, instructing the servants that they were not to be disturbed. As he read through the letter, Ilane sat beside him, twisting her fingers into the fabric of her dress.

Addressed to the Duke and Duchess, the letter was brief and to the point. The Count of an old and noble house was seeking to forge an alliance with the Duchy of Queenscove by way of marriage between his eldest son and heir, and their youngest daughter. Were they amenable to the prospect, he would be willing to meet with them on their terms to discuss how to go forward.

“Okay,” he sighed, finishing. He turned to his wife, took her hand in his and looked her in the eye. “What do we do?”

“We have to consider it,” came the swift reply. Before he could protest, she continued, “We have little choice and you know it. After last summer? Baird, we have to protect her.”

“Piers is a good man. Surely...?”

“Baird, if you’d seen the look on his face when he saw her-! No, husband; I fear it is no longer a case of whether he is a good man or not. If he comes for her, we both know her future will be ruined.” Ilane squeezed her hand around his and leaned forward, touching her forehead to his shoulder. “Baird,” she whispered, desperation creeping into her voice. “Baird, if you truly care for her, you will consider this. Write the man back. Please.”

* * *

Kel was in the nursery when they came for her. A maid picked her up off the floor, fixing her hair and her dress, before passing her on to another servant. She joined her parents in a receiving room and was ushered onto a seat by the fireplace. There was a strange man sitting across the room from her. He had kind eyes, and he smiled when she looked up at him. She straightened in her seat at that but her head remained ducked down.

The fire in the hearth had only recently been lit, so there was still a faint chill in the air. As she sat there, she shivered and began to fidget. The maid who’d brought her in stepped forward and pressed a needle and a sampler cloth into her hand, then left the room. Ilane leaned over, running her hand through her daughter’s hair as she murmured into her ear. “Darling, your father and I have some business to discuss. Why don’t you keep yourself busy, hm?”

Kel nodded wordlessly and got to work, thankful that the needle had already been threaded. The last time she’d tried to do it herself, she’d accidentally pricked her finger hard enough to draw blood. Her brow furrowed with concentration as she clumsily tried to embroider her name in cross stitch.

She became so absorbed in her task that she missed the significance of the conversation that was taking place between her parents and the strange man. In later days, she would wonder if her act of obedience at that very moment was cause for regret. She would wonder just what else she had let go unnoticed, unobserved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels so incomplete but if I didn't post this now, I probably would never get round to doing it. Procrastination has been my friend for a very long time; I kinda need to punch it in the face every once in a while. It's my Trevor.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment below to let me know what you think. I'm also on [tumblr](http://slubbycottonrocks.tumblr.com/).


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